Dark Raven
by AnimeDreama
Summary: She is a rogue in a family of warriors. She is betrayed and becomes a Grey Warden. Revenge is what she's after, but the world as she knows it is in danger. She doesn't have time for love, but her heart just can't seem to help it. Intrigued and charmed by a former templar: will he be able to show her the light when all she sees is darkness? Oh, and darkspawn. Nasty things.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

Well, I've actually done it. I've actually started a story based on my Grey Warden. Well, one of. I've played it a few times but not for two years when suddenly the urge hit me. Then I got the other urge in which to write my character. Not quite a self-insert, but it is based on my choices within the game. Some things may differ from the game if the urge hits me. Not much, mind you. This is simply just an urge to get my thoughts on the character down in writing. Also as a way to take a break from my other stories which I need a break to reflect upon. Mostly focused on my Aliens Vs. Predator story: Aeglaeca 20 Hybrids, though I've hit another curve and I'd thought the damned writer's block had vanished, but it just won't get writing. I've the story on the tips of my fingers, waiting to write but I can't articulate it on paper. Ever get that feeling? I know, it's annoying right?

Especially when your mind hits you with ideas on other stories, but not the one you actually want to write, but you can't help but write down the other plot bunnies so they can stop hounding you. I mean, honestly, is the muse a slave of the artist or the artist a slave to the muse? Hard to say. Possibly a combination of both. Without one or the other, neither would exist.

So, without further adeiu: I do not own Dragon Age or its characters. My name is not in the credits. This is just creative fun.

Hope you all enjoy it, and if you like, leave a bit of constructive criticism behind. :D

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 _ **Darkspawn and Raven**_

 **Chapter one: Leave Pieces Behind**

' _For generations, your family, the Couslands, has stewarded the lands of Highever, earning the loyalty of your people with justice and temperance. When your country was occupied by the Orlesian Empire, your father and grandfather served the embattled kings of your land. Today, your eldest brother takes up House Cousland's banner in service to the Crown – not against the men of Orlais, but against the bestial darkspawn rising in the south.'_

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Teyrn Bryce Cousland was a well-aged man and still seen as handsome by many. The life of a Teyrn and a soldier in Fereldan was not for the lazy. He and his wife and spent many hours teaching their children how to use the sword; although some suspected his youngest child, his daughter had learned the subtle, deadly art of the rogue from somewhere else. Where from precisely, he could only guess but those skills had served her well. Raven was a deadly combatant to face on the field, able to handle herself against the majority of Highever's soldiers – and even her brother. Either way, Bryce was proud of his children and he loved them fiercely.

He would have to tell his fierce girl she would not be accompanying him and her brother into battle; something she was not going to like.

"I trust, then that your troops will be here shortly?"

"I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow," Arl Howe replied, then dipped his head submissively. "I apologise for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault."

Bruce turned about to face his old friend, a friendship forged from trusting the man at his side and at his back in the Orlesian rebellions. "No, no. The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it?" he stated the obvious, because in all fairness: he had also been scrambling about to organise his own men to be ready to answer the summons from the King. "I only received the call from the King a few days ago, myself. I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the good old days!" he added with amusement and some eagerness, as he stepped up beside Howe. It had been too long since he had last been in battle. He appreciated the years of generous quiet that had come after the Orlesians had been driven out, of course, but he had enjoyed the thrill of battle.

"True," came his long-time friends' reply with a much tighter quirk of his lips. "Though we both had less grey in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not... monsters."

"At least the smell will be the same," Bryce laughed, but before he could continue the conversation, he caught a whiff of pine and an elusive wildflower known for both is ability to heal and to poison, depending on which part of the beautiful plant a herbalist or poison-maker used. He turned and smiled at his daughter as she stepped up towards the elder men. "I'm sorry, pup, I didn't see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter?"

Howe looked upon the young woman with a keen eye. Born Ravenna Elnora Cousland, she was better known as Raven to her friends and family. She had changed from the young girl refusing to wear dresses and act like the lady she was. She personified a sly and fierce porcelain doll with beautiful green eyes that glittered with mischief accented by dark eye-shadow. Her long mahogany hair was tied in a high pony tail that ended in the middle of her back, a few strands let loose to frame her face. She was, indeed, beautiful. "I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear," he bowed his head in greeting, taking care to politely compliment her.

"And you, Arl Howe," was the polite response with a small smile. Howe was surprised by the mysterious and sultry quality of her voice; equal parts gentle and enticing. That, if nothing else revealed just how much this woman had grown and blossomed into adulthood. She moved with the grace of a hunter, her steps confident and purposeful and her eyes seemed to see everything and as if straight through you. A secret could not be hidden, one could assume from looking into those sharp, observing orbs. A curious frown marred her face as she looked behind him, as if expecting to find someone there. "Is your family here?"

Howe quickly shook his head. "Oh no. I left them in Amaranthine, well away from the fighting in the south. They do send their best wishes. My son Thomas asked after you," he smiled humorously, recalling how his son had been enraptured by her. It had been a long time since Howe had been in Highever to visit. "Perhaps I should bring him with me next time..." he trailed off.

Her brow cocked at the underlining text. "To what end?"

He laughed at that. "Ha! _To what end_ , she says! So glib, too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that."

Bryce shrugged a helpless gesture, also amused by his daughter. "See what I contend with, Howe? There's no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

Howe inclined his head, remembering her manner of discipline if it could be called that. _Rogue's were crafty combatants who succeed in battle by combing speed, subterfuge and a wide range of abilities to bring their opponents down in unexpected ways, sometimes before the enemy even perceives the danger_. This made facing them a daunting prospect, even for the other, seemingly more powerful classes of mage or solder. As _they can pick locks with great skill, incapacitate enemies with ease, or sneak up on targets to deliver a devious and crippling back-stab_ – one did not assume they would be an easy kill and the fools that did were quickly taught why they shouldn't.

"Quite talented, I'm sure," he finally said, shifting his gaze to Bryce. "One to watch."

Bryce shot him a warning glance for that comment. He was a proud father and to have anyone criticise his children, provoked his ire. He turned away from him and looked his daughter in the eye, to gauge her reaction to Howe's comment, and found a slight narrowing of her eyes, a subtle twitch of her jaw muscle as she clenched her teeth. Very few people could read the signs for what they were: the early signs of her temper rising. She was not as rash and impulsive as she had once been as a child, but he did not doubt her forked tongue would come out to play, and so he spoke before she had a chance to. "At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

He stepped back minutely, very sure of what his daughter's reaction would be and true to form, a fire flashed in her eyes and stepping forward on one leg, her shoulders hunched over as if preparing to leap at him and grab his shoulders and then shake him like a rag doll. "What? Why can't I go into battle with you and Fergus?" she demanded; one step away from growling just like her mabari companion.

Bryce was well versed in the independence and ferocity of Ferelden women and most of all: he knew his daughter. "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself," he assured her calmly, watching her cautiously in case she decided to throw a powder to temporarily blind someone before kicking them below the belt. It was a particular favourite trick of hers with those who irked or insulted her sensibilities. "But I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war. She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going," he admitted to soften the blow. If there was one weakness he knew to use: it was family. Particularly her mother or her nephew.

There was a few beat of silence and then she blew out a frustrated puff of air past her lips, letting her anger slowly go. She did not want her mother to worry too much and she was responsible enough to see reason. She had been taught many things by her mother, father and Aldous, her main tutor growing up. Her emotions, however, had always been difficult for her to master completely. She could lie like the rogue she was, but get her angry enough and she was more like a berserker. It did not mean she liked not joining her father and brother into battle, but she understood. She stepped back into a more relaxed position, her arms folded across her chest in a subtle sign of attitude. "Very well," she said in resigned acceptance, inclining her head. "I'll do what you think is best."

"Now, that's what I like to hear. Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep the peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?" he asked, and he waited until he received a nod before adding, "There is also someone you must meet. Please," he asked a nearby guard, "show Duncan in."

To the surprise of Howe and his daughter, a dark-skinned man with the bearing of warrior strode towards the small group. At his back were two weapons: a sword and a dagger but Raven's gaze was drawn to the man's eyes. Those dark orbs spoke of an experience of a thousand lifetimes of hardships and had drawn strength and wisdom from them. "It is an honour to be guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland," the man said respectfully once within earshot, stopping in front of the three nobles.

Howe's eyes widened, recognising just who this person was. "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

"Duncan arrived just recently, announced. Is there a problem?"

Howe shook his head, still looking a bit out of sorts. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am... at a disadvantage."

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," Bryce admitted and then turned to his daughter. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

Everyone in the castle who had seen Raven grow up knew she was a troublemaker. A mischievous pup, there were many she slipped away unnoticed, causing panic to find her. Perhaps it had been the early warning signs of the rogue she would become. The inability for anyone to find her had driven many tutors away; and when a travelling mage from the Circle had appeared when Raven had been severely sick one winter, relief came. It had come in the form of a four-legged package of mabari war hound. He had promptly been named Seawolf, a name taken from her mother's time as a raider in her youth. Then again, the blessing was a double-edged sword. The hound was as sneaky as his Mistress: the two were as troublesome as the other. Maker bless them,

It took Raven only a moment to recall something, head cocked slightly to the side. "They're an order of great warriors. Heroes. Defenders against the Blight."

Bruce nodded; glad she had remembered Brother Aldous' teachings. It was some matter of curiosity his daughter had learned as much as she had, having spent most of her time outside than in the library studying. But, she had been known to steal away outside the walls of the castle to a little glad where she would lay with Seawolf and read. Perhaps that was how she had learnt on her own. "They are heroes of legend, who ended the Blights and saved us all. Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the South. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Raven was a little surprised by that, but she was proud her childhood friend would be considered worthy of becoming a Grey Warden. She would be sad to see him go, though.

"If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter is an excellent candidate," Duncan said with an appraising eye on her, again surprising Raven and worse she became... _intrigued_.

Bryce stepped protectively in front of her as if his body would shield her from Duncan's words. "Honour though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about."

Raven smiled cheekily behind her father's back. "I think I rather like that idea, Father."

He pretended not to hear her and kept his eye on Duncan. "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription...?"

"Have no fear," Duncan assured. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Bryce was comforted by that and turned back to his daughter, who eyed him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

She looked at Duncan, still curious, but turned back to her father and saw the look in his eyes. She almost pouted because that was a look she had never been able to argue, bully or persuade or even charm her way past. She knew she would not win the battle against her father to question this Grey Warden further, and so she nodded, bowing slightly masking her eyes to take a moment to soothe her ire. "Of course."

"In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

At that, her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Slightly amused by her daring, he still set his serious gaze on her, which brokered no more sass. "We must discuss the battle plans in the south. Now be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

"Very well, Father. Howe, Duncan, good evening," Raven inclined her head to each and headed off.

"She has become a very independent woman," Howe noticed aloud, trailing her with his eyes.

"Of course. It's her mother in her," Bryce's replied warmly, and then added with a proud smile: "She got my humour, though."

Outside the main hall, Raven decided to take the scenic route because she had not been given a time limit to her task. She mused on what Mother Mallol was saying to the guards, as she knew most of the soldiers of the castle would seek comfort from their religion and the image of his word. Personally, she did not believe in the Maker; making her the odd one out in her family. She respected the religion. The Chant was lovely and if it gave an individual purpose in their life – who was she to argue with their choice? She just wished the Mother would accept that it had been her choice, and cease her attempts to ' _convert her back'_ to the Maker's side.

As she had expected, there was Mother Mallol and kneeling behind her were two guards. They were deep in prayer. The desperation and fear was a pungent aroma she could taste.

She did not like it.

"Maker prepare a place for us. Redeem our world from sin. Forgive our transgressions," Mother Mallol's calming voice droned the words she had memorised to heart.

Raven remembered listening to all the chants and prayers, had even memorised the more important prayers and had read books upon its history. A little bit of knowledge went a long way, and she had wanted to learn about the religion her family so dutifully followed. She had learned that while she respected it, she did not have to accept it for herself. She was at peace that her life was forged by her own hands, her choices taking her down the paths of her own making. Most took it to the point that if the Divine wished them to fall off a cliff, they would not question the order: and simply do it.

"Maker forgive us all!" one the guards pleaded desperately.

The Mother was quick to realise she was there and stood from her knees with a grace Raven wondered at. Had she cared for such things, she might have envied it but the endless crouching up and down over her years, had most likely attributed to the Mother's poise. She didn't have that kind of commitment, nor did she think she ever would. "Have you come to pray for your brother and father?" the elder woman asked. "I'd be happy to ask the Maker's blessings with you."

Raven sighed at the sharpness of the Mother's gaze. Why did she come here? "If it will make you feel better."

"Would it not make you feel better?" was the Mother's pointed reply.

Folding her arms, Raven jutted out her hip and arched her brow. "I've told you before I don't believe in the Maker."

The pity that burst in Mother's eyes almost made Raven roll her eyes. "I pray that the danger your brother and father face might change your mind," she said with disappointment, shaking her head as if she was doing something as bad as killing a few innocent bystanders. And then kicking them and their puppies. Adding on a swear word in front of a child. "It saddens me that you will walk alone in this world and the hereafter, by your choice of blindness. But I will bother you no further. I must yet administer to soldiers who appreciate it. Excuse me."

Having been dismissed so blatantly, Raven wondered just why she kept coming back here. Perhaps she had a masochist streak she had not been aware of...

Why was it so horrible that she did not believe in the Maker? She respected the religion, valued the traditions that had formed the culture of her homeland, but no... She could not accept that just because a bunch of ambitious fools had blasted into the Fade, intending to find the Maker: she and every other person were to blame for their transgressions. She accepted people found solace in the religion, but she was not one of them. She found it sad those of the religion barely saw anything more to life than what the Divine said. A single woman who held sway over even Kings... all because of Andraste; a woman who had fought a war in a time of chaos... who was said to have been the Bride of the Maker.

And that tale was not a happy one, even if it had been of love: there had been war and betrayal as well. It made for interesting reading, at the very least. She'd give it that much.

With a helpless shrug, she bid the Mother a polite farewell (not that she noticed) and decided to check the treasury.

For many years she had been trying to pick the lock without having to steal her parents' key. It was easier said than done – especially when she noticed two guards in the room outside the treasury... playing cards.

"Oh! My lady!" one guard stood upright, "we were just... ah..."

"Playing cards?" she smiled, brow rising as she tapped her toe against the floor.

"Well... the treasury is safe... I'm not even sure why the teyrn stationed us here..." he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

For a moment, she made them squirm and then smiled, "Don't worry about it, men. I won't say anything."

"We... appreciate that, my lady," the guard sighed with relief. "Thank you."

"But..." Raven added before she left with a stern stare she had copied from her mother, a look she knew no one wanted to see pinned on them. "Don't make a habit of it."

The guards bowed, "Yes, my lady."

Smiling, she returned to her long scenic route, to be stopped by a welcoming, familiar face. Truth be told, she found Ser Gilmore very handsome with his red hair and honest brown eyes. She had grown up alongside him and thought of him as a good friend, more so than any of her fellow noble ladies – a breed she did not find easy to make friends with. She was used to roughing it with boys, had done so with even the elder soldiers that guarded the halls. "There you are!" he exclaimed, almost collapsing in relief once he saw her. "Your mother told me the teryn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Raven chuckled as her head tilted slightly up to look into his eyes. "Hello to you, too, Ser Gilmore."

"Ha! Pardon my abruptness, my lady. It's simply that I've been looking everywhere for you. I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

"She was my nanny before she was the cook," Raven shook her head, having trouble picturing Nan leaving. She was far too stubborn. "Nan won't leave."

"Your mother disagrees. She _insists_ you collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. He'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Raven sighed heavily, but with fondness hidden in a small smile. "Then I guess I should go collect him."

"That would be wise," he replied and then smiled at the image that came to mind, "Before Nan tears down the walls. You're quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Of course, that means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself," he added with another amused grin. "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled in. Shall we?"

Raven nodded. "I would like to see Aldous first, then to the kitchen."

Ser Gilmore nodded, a little resignedly but he knew his friend had developed a soft spot for the old man, the man who had taught her many things and also let her got away with many things (not that he would ever admit it). As resistant to teaching as she had been, Aldous was like a grandfather to her. "Just follow the yelling. When Nan's unhappy, she makes sure everyone knows it."

Raven was still laughing when she opened the door to the library, where she found good old Aldous lecturing two young squires.

"Hello, my dear girl," he greeted warmly. "By chance, I am beginning to teach these young squires about your family history."

One of the squires groaned. "Do we have to? History is boring!"

Aldous was not impressed. "Boys, you are referring to the Couslands... the very family in whose castle you live! Show some respect!"

Raven lips quirked at the sight so familiar, and the child who had even dared say such a thing. She did not doubt most nobles would backhand the child for saying such a thing, but the Couslands were not among them. If anything else, they probably encouraged sass so long as no one tried to usurp their authority. Her father had taught her to be just and fair in all situations. The world worked in shades of grey. Aldous however had been taught to never show disrespect to his _'superiors'_ and expected his students to do the same. "Still the same task masker, I see?"

"If the mind is not exercised, it withers just as the body does. Perhaps you'd care to join me in teaching the lesson?"

"I'm quite familiar with the subject matter," she replied with a cocked-head smirk the elder man remembered from a time she was as tall as his stomach. The reminder made him feel old.

"Perhaps you could make the topic more... palatable for these lads and their minuscule intellects?"

"Very well."

Aldous smiled widely, looking almost enthused for once. "Wonderful! The Cousland history is long, indeed. Where shall we start?"

"We predate the founding of the kingdom, yes?"

"Well I'm glad some of my lessons didn't disappear into that yawning chasm between your ears, young lady."

"Your lecturing _does_ lead to yawning."

"A pity you don't spend the same care whetting the edge of your mind as your tongue," he spoke with a slight shake of his head, though inwardly he was proud she had taken his lessons to heart. It had been a long, long journey and he could say he knew the young lady well. He loved her as his own granddaughter, having no other family to call his own. The Couslands had taken him in, asking for a teacher and he had gained a home. He had done his duties well, although at first it had been... trying. As a child, Raven had been mischievous, but she had also been cunning. She had possessed a suspicious-of-the-new, but highly curious mind. It had taken a while for her to open up to him and accept his teachings. He could not say how he had managed it, but he supposed it was when he said he did not mind that her mabari stay with her during their lessons...

Ah, but now he had gotten off track...

"At any rate, your family has held the teyrnir of Highever since before King Calenhad united Ferelden. In fact, Teyrna Elethea Cousland battled Calenhad to maintain Highever's independence."

"We opposed the king?"

"The Cousland's are ardent royalists now, but at that time, Calenhad was unknown and considered dangerous by many. When Calenhad's army reached Highever, Teyrna Elethea led the local banns against him. Obviously, Calenhad won."

"And Calenhad let us keep the teyrnir?"

"Calenhad wished to unite Fereldan, not conquer it. After Elethea's men were defeated, Calenhad asked her to swear fealty. The boulder where they held council still stands today as a memorial of the event."

"When was our line founded?"

"Records are vague, but the Cousland's became teyrns during the Black Age. Is that familiar, child?"

It did sound familiar, and a light in her eyes lit up. "During the lycanthrope plagues?"

"Good! I'm pleased some of my lessons seem to have stuck," he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "At that time, your family held only the minor title of "bann". When the werewolves reached this area, Bann Mather Cousland organised a curfew and patrols within the city. Several other local banns supported his efforts by swearing oaths of fealty, making him their teryn."

"Tell about our relationship with Arl Howe."

"The history between the Cousland's and the Howe's reaches back to the Orlesian occupation."

"Go on," Raven prompted, knowing full well Aldous favourite subject to drone on about was war stories.

"During the rebellion against Orlais, several battles were fought near Highever. The port village of Harper's Ford was the terynir's centre. Its arl was Tarleton Howe. Though nearly ninety, he was still as sharp and bitter as cheap ale. Your grandfather openly supported the rebellion, but Howe sided with Orlais. Your family was forced to seize Harper's Ford before it was all over."

"Unfortunate, but we couldn't lose Harper's Ford."

Aldous nodded. "Correct. That caused a rift between the two families, as you might imagine. The Howe's eventually joined the rebellion, when all of Ferelden united behind King Maric and General Loghain. Just as now we united behind Maric's son, King Cailan, to fight the darkspawn."

Raven realised Ser Gilmore was fidgeting, and remembered her task: her mabari was annoying nan. "Time to end the lesson, I think."

Aldous bowed with sincere affection. "Thank you for indulging an old man."

This time, the second squire groaned. "Awww! Does that mean we have to listen to you, now?"

"Silence! I will not have you two becoming smart-mouthed hooligans! Perhaps you should go. I doubt they need any more distractions. I'm just going to settle in here and... apparently talk to myself..." Aldous muttered and headed off to take a long, long nap and Raven laughed heartily at the sight, remembering Aldous as a man who had always loved to lie down in the sun. He did not have this option these days, his age bringing aches that made it difficult for him to walk around as much as he once had.

"This where you escape outside and play, kids," she told the two squires, kneeling down to grab their shoulders and catching their eyes with childish glee. "But remember to watch yourselves," she warned, waggling her finger with a hint of her own mother's tone coming in as she spoke to them. "There are many soldiers about and we don't want you getting trampled, now do we?"

"Thank you, my Lady," the squires gushed and practically bolted outside.

Watching, Raven shot look Ser Gilmore a look. "Remember when we could just run off like that?" Her response was an arched brow, which she accompanied by another round of laughter. With one of her rare smiles that wasn't a smirk; she pivoted on her heel and strode towards the place she had spent a lot of her childhood pilfering cakes. "Very well, then, Ser Gilmore. I shall head for the kitchens."

Watching the youngest Cousland walk away for a moment, Ser Gilmore could only shake his head.

True to form, the yelling was a fine beacon straight to the kitchens, a place she had frequented as a child, hungry and always stealing cakes under the then-cooks' nose. Only Raven was smiling as she and Ser Gilmore entered the scene, finding Nan standing over two servant elves. She was an old woman, but she was not frail, in looks _or_ tone. "Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!" she demanded furiously.

"But, mistress!" the female elf who Raven remembered as Adney cried, "It won't let us near!"

"If I can't get into that larder, I'll skin the both of you useless elves, I swear it!"

Nan's temper was well known and Raven remembered the first time she had been scolded by her. It was not something she would ever forget. Between Mother and Nan: she was not sure who was more interesting or frightening to watch. Even Ser Gilmore had the same reservations as he nervously stepped up. "Err... calm down, good woman. We've come to help..."

"You! And _you_!" Nan barked, turning around and aiming her glare on Raven. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

Raven did not even try to fake the apology, knowing the elder woman was just blowing off steam. "I'm sorry he's bothering you, Nan."

"Just get him gone! I've enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers! You two!" she snapped at the elves, "Stop standing there like idiots! Get out of the way!"

Raven and Ser Gilmore exchanged a glance and hurried inside the larder, closing the door behind them. Ser Gilmore took one look at Seawolf as he sniffed about the room, and sighed heavily at the state of the larder, knowing that Nan was not going to be happy about it. The once neat and tidy shelving was all a mishap of disorder. "Look at that mess. How did he even get in here?"

Immediately noticing his Mistress, Seawolf spun about and barked. Raven's curiosity piqued and she knelt down before him, scratching his ear. "Are you trying to tell me something, boy?"

Seawolf's reply was to spin about barking. "He does seem like he's trying to tell you something," Ser Gilmore agreed, then snapped his head about. "Wait, did you hear that?"

Raven's lips pulled back in distaste as a horde of very big rats charged at them. Together, Ser Gilmore, Seawolf and herself made short work of them.

"Urgh!" she exclaimed, shaking heavy amounts of blood off her daggers. "They sure do bleed a lot..." she mused and ended up wiping the blades across the skirt of her armour. Finally cleaned, she holstered her daggers then as she kicked a rodent away from her, which Seawolf immediately pounced upon only to pull back when realising it was dead.

"Giant rats?" Ser Gilmore exclaimed once he had holstered his weapon, looking at the surprising number of them. He felt a shudder run down his spine in a superstitious wave. "It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder after all."

"It certainly looks that way," Raven agreed and affectionately patted her hound and he leaned into the scratch.

"Those were rats from the Korcari Wilds. Best not to tell Nan," he suggested with a slight shudder at the memories of childhood when he and Raven had gotten into mischief. "She's upset enough as it is. But seeing as you've got your mabari well in hand, I'll be on my way. I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the arl's men," he said, bidding her a fond farewell as he went.

Turning back to her hound, Raven blinked at the sight of her mabari holding a wet, slightly damaged cake in his maw.

"Cake! Excellent!" she exclaimed, accepting it. "Good boy!" Seawolf barked happily in response to the praise and Raven laughed again and scratched the side of his neck behind his ear. "Come on, boy. Let's go."

As they exited, Nan rounded on them immediately noticing Seawolf's satisfied grin. "There he is, as brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!"

She responded with a perfect deadpan: "Actually, he was defending your larder from rats. Big ones."

Adney flinched away from the larder, eyes wide. "W-what? Rats? Not the large grey ones?"

"They'll rip you to shreds, they will!" Cath exclaimed.

"See? Now you've gone and scared the servants!" Nan exclaimed in frustration, silently cursing Raven's tactless mouth. "I expect those filthy things are dead."

Raven patted Seawolf's head and he rubbed against her leg as he shot Nan a proud look. "My faithful war hound made sure it's safe."

"Hmph. I bet that dog led those rats in there to begin with," Nan replied, unamused. Seawolf whined at her, showing her his big, puppy eyes. "Oh, don't even start with the sad eyes! I'm immune to your so-called charms." But as he whined again and somehow made those eyes bigger, Nan sighed grabbed a handful of pork bits from the table. "Here, then. Take these pork bits and don't say that Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog." She ignored Seawolf's happy, thankful bark and looked at Raven. "Thank you, my lady. Now we can get to work. That's right, you two, quit standing about! Thank you again for your help. Now, if you'll just hold on for a moment, yes?"

Raven, however, needed to go and actually speak to Fergus. "I'm in a h—"

"Adney, get moving with those casks! And Cath, do you think you can serve that to the teyrn with dirt from the floor all over it?" Nan barked at the elves.

"Miserable old bat," Cath hissed under his breath.

However, Nan had chased after Raven in her younger years. She had honed her ability to hear, and used it well. "Old bat, am I? We've got to work double-time on supper! Sweep out the hearths, and no complaining!" she barked again and the two elves launched to do her bidding, even if they muttered grouchily. They had learned Nan was no push over.

"Busy day?" Raven grinned.

"Just keeping order," Nan replied, looking calmer but no less stern. "That's why your father keeps me on. The good Maker knows I needn't take care of you anymore. Thank you for coming to your old nanny's rescue. That blasted hound is more trouble than he's worth, he is." Seawolf's head tilted curiously, but Nan was unaffected this time. "Don't start with me! You've gotten all you're getting today. But what about you, my lady? Been keeping safe and well behaved, I hope?"

Raven's response was a slow, sly grin as she clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head in mock innocence. "Why would I say anything but yes?"

"Ha! Clever whelp. That mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day. Do you remember that bedtime story I used to tell you? ' _The Dog That Bit'_?"

"I remember it."

"Good. Then you can start."

Raven was fond of this tale and remembered it well. "Before our fathers' fathers came down from the mountains..."

Nan quickly took up the tale, her voice firm and even. That voice had gotten her to sleep many, many times. It was just like her mothers. "...A war hound was born to the elder bitch of a tribal chief. They named him Hohaku and gave him everything. He grew up a fine, strong pup, destined to be the partner of the chief's eldest son."

"And Hohaku grew prideful," Raven added.

"The young hound became arrogant, taking food from his kin and waring them – in the way of dogs – that the chief's family would punish them if they tried to attack him. Years passed, and the time for the chief's son to take a war hound came closer. Hohaku's pride swelled, and many people of the tribe came to the chief, quietly whispering of this dog's bullying. With each complaint, the chief saw only Hohaku's strength and pride, and sent his people away. But as his son grew, the chief watched more closely. The day might come when his boy's life would depend on this dog. If the humblest of his people would not trust Hohaku, how could he?"

Raven nodded, seeing a point that as a young girl, she had not. "Strong or not, he chose a more reliable dog."

Nan inclined her head in acknowledgement of that wisdom, a glimmer pride in those stern eyes Raven had often tried to attain. Not always succeeding. "When the day came, Hohaku sat proudly, waiting to be called. But the old chief chose Hohaku's brother as his son's hound. Hohaku was shamed, but felt no remorse. So great was his rage that he darked across the fire put and bit the chief's hand."

"That was a mistake."

"The chief and his son struck at Hohaku, cursing him. The hound ran into the village, seeking shelter in the tents and kennels. The other dogs snapped at him, and the tribes people threw stones at him. Before the chief could reach him, the tribe had torn Hohaku apart. Now," she added pointedly, "what should you carry from this tale?"

"How you treat the least is remembered by the greatest."

"True. Hohaku thought nothing of abusing the tribe and their dogs, but their complaints showed the chief he could not be trusted," Nan finished the story and then there was a look Raven remembered very well from her lessens with the elder woman. "But you're far too old now for an old woman to be reminding you to watch how you behave, hmm?" she asked with a pointed, hopeful look.

Today, Raven decided to humour her and gave a short bow. "Thank you for the story. It was thoughtful of you."

"It's a story worth repeating, that's all. Be off with you, then. Tell your brother farewell before he rides off to war."

"Yes, Nan. Come on, Seawolf. Better go find Fergus."

Seawolf barked and followed at her heels, until a familiar voice came to their ears...

"And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk, I understand, and mistook Bryce for the king," Eleanor chuckled and smiled at Raven as she strode to the small group. "Ah, here is my lovely daughter. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled?"

"Nan's head exploded and my hound ate the kitchen staff," Raven deadpanned.

"Well, at least one of us will have had a decent dinner," she said to the hound, who barked happily in reply. She had gotten her sense of humour from her father but had attained her mother's penchant for sharp sarcasm. Her mother had taught her many things from her times as a Battle-Maiden. She may have been a soldier, but she had many skills similar to a rogue Raven had picked up. Like cunning... "Perhaps your hound left something I can feed my guests. Darling, you remember Lady Landra? Bann Loren's wife?"

"I think we last met at your mother's spring salon," Lady Landra smiled at her.

Raven had the mind not to cringe at the memory and went for politeness. "Of course," she said with a small smile, inclining her head. "It is good to see you again, my lady."

"You're too kind, dear girl. Didn't I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?"

Dairren, Raven remembered his name, added: "And made a very poor case for it, I might add."

"You remember my son, Dairren? He's not married yet, either," she said with a bit of a laugh.

Dairren sighed and looked at Raven. "Don't listen to her. It's good to see you again, my lady. You're looking as beautiful as ever."

"Flatterer," Raven laughed with a small blush, sharp eyes wondering what his compliment meant. She had a brief, passing spell of intrigue regarding this man at the salon, despite his mother's insistence she married him. Raven was a noble lady, despite her preference for battle: she wielded a charming, silver tongue she used to often humour her guests. She was known for her flirting, but she possessed only mischief and the want to make others smile. Attraction was not something she was unfamiliar with, but she had never been kissed nor had anyone attempted to do so.

Of course with a father like Bryce Cousland: one did not simply just walk up and start courting her. Especially with a protective brother like Fergus, bless his heart…

That being said, Raven could fight her own battles and had her own pride. Those who tried to woe her were often left with a bruised ego... and groin.

"And this is my lady in waiting, Iona. Do say something, dear," Lady Landra said, gesturing the young lady at her side.

"It is a great pleasure, my lady," the pretty elf smiled: eyes a moss green with hair of gold. "You are as pretty as your mother describes."

Raven inclined her head to the elf, head tilted to the side. Most of the elves here were her friends but they never stepped above the subordinate role, not matter how much she encouraged they did so. Alas, there were some things not even a determined individual could do to try and change decade's worth of cultural abuse. She found it quite upsetting that the elves had fallen so low and disgusted her own people had done it. But she could do nothing to help them if they did not wish to be helped.

"You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult," Eleanor sighed, interrupting Raven's thoughts. She shot her mother a slight frown and resisted the urge to roll her eyes and make a scene. Her mother wished for many, many more grandchildren despite the fact she already had a grandson, Raven's nephew: Oren.

"Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own, your Ladyship," Dairren said, causing Raven to blink his way. "You should be proud."

"Proud doesn't get me any more grandchildren," was her mother's reply.

Raven lost the battle and rolled her eyes, folding her arms to quietly say she was uninterested in this topic. "I can handle my own affairs, thank you."

"All evidence to the contrary," was her mother's quick reply in the same tone as her brow rose.

"I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear," Lady Landra said. "Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper."

"Perhaps we'll retire to the study, for now," he replied, bowing his head and he and Iona walked off.

"Good evening, your Ladyship," Lady Landra said and walked away.

"You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance," Eleanor told her daughter once they were alone.

"Did you know there's a Grey Warden here?" Raven asked.

"Yes, your father mentioned that. You haven't gotten it into your head that you want to be recruited?" her mother asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Would that be so bad?"

"There's enough here at the castle to occupy you. I don't need you off chasing danger like your brother."

"Why can't I go with Father and Fergus?"

"I know it's difficult to stay in the castle and watch the others ride off, but we must see to our duties first. You understand that, don't you?"

And Raven did, but she had one concern that would not go away: "What if they fall without me?"

"It's in the Maker's hands now, and we must cope as best we can," Eleanor replied, which did nothing to ease Raven.

"I have a bad feeling about all this."

"As do I," Eleandra breathed, her eyes falling down just a little and closed as if it might block out the fact her husband and son would be heading to battle Darkspawn. But she was a Fereldan woman and a warrior at heart. She did not shirk at the risks her life gave. It was her duty to be a pillar of strength for her people, her daughter in particular. "Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don't comfort me. But it wouldn't help for us to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty and we have ours."

"Are you staying at the castle?"

"For a few days. Then I'll travel with Lady Landra to her estate and keep her company for a time. Your father thinks my presence here might undermine your authority."

That meant Raven was going to be ruling the castle alone. Part of her was eager and the other was filled with trepidation, but Mother rarely had time to just relax. "As you wish."

Eleanor smiled at her daughter. "I was worried you might be nervous about running the castle alone. I needn't have been concerned."

Raven could think of nothing else to say. "I should go."

"I love you, my darling girl. You know that, don't you?"

"I love you, too," Raven smiled and took the moment to embrace her. Raven enjoyed hugs from family, they soothed any doubts or anxieties she had and even those she had not been aware of. Any opportunity for a hug was taken, regardless of timing. She was known for giving the best hugs, a talent she had received from her father. There was no half-armed hug with the barest of touches, no. Raven wrapped her arms around the person she was hugging, squeezing them as tightly as she could for a few heartbeats before then releasing them. She always felt better after a hug.

"Go do what you must, then." Eleanor squeezed one more final time before releasing her daughter with a gentle smile. "I will see you soon."

Hugging her mother, she headed to Fergus' rooms and found her nephew Oren, looking up at his father. "Is there really gonna be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?"

"That's " _sword_ ", Oren," Fergus corrected his son as he bent down on one knee. "And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

Oriana, Raven's sister-in-law looked lost as she wrung her hands together nervously. "I wish victory was indeed so certain. My heart is... disquiet."

"Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth," Fergus replied confidently and his brown eyes immiedately noticed Raven, and he smiled a little cheekily. "And here's my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well," he said, finishing them with a tender kiss to his wife's lips. The pair of them were so romantic it always made Raven feel a combination of uncomfortable and wanting to clasp her hands together and go 'aww'.

There was also another reaction:

Raven made a face at them. "Just let me know when you two are finished."

"Ha!" her brother laughed. "When there's a man in your life, you'll understand."

She highly doubted that and arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "I prefer my freedom, thank you."

"One day you'll meet someone who can handle you. Mark my words."

Raven chose to ignore that and bit her lip nervously. "Do you really think the war will be over quickly?"

"Word from the south is that the battles have gone well. There's no evidence that this is a true Blight—just a large raid."

"Could that be true?" Oriana asked hopefully.

"I'll see for myself soon enough. Pray for me, love, and I'll be back within a month or two."

Raven rolled her eyes and was warmed by their affections at the same time. It was an odd combination. She had gained a sister in a way, something she found both as something good and bad. There were no shortage of requests for her to dress up in a dress, which was something Raven did not partake in unless it was demanded by both her parents. Oriana never stopped trying, though… but Raven would admit the Antivan woman knew her way around scents. She had fashioned Raven's favourite lotions in which she bathed and smoothed her skin. And it was nice to speak with another woman every so often. She could not always tell her mother some things, but Oriana was always there to listen.

Even so, she had rarely been apart from Fergus. They had grown up together, her being the younger looking up to him and following him around. To be without him….

The woman frowned and touched her brother's hand and held his gaze. "I wish I could go with you."

"I wish you could come!" he replied, taking her hands in his and holding them in his warmth, but his next words were not without humour: "It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself."

"In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be... unthinkable," Oriana said, shaking her head.

"Is that so?" Fergus laughed. "I always heard Antivan women were quite dangerous."

His wife's smile was sweet danger as she looked at him. "With kindness and poison only, my husband."

"This from the woman who serves me my tea," Fergus chuckled, looking at his sister who had been taught a few things from his wife and who had taught his wife a few things, too.

Raven laughed. She would miss him. And his humour. "You'll be missed, Brother."

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe."

"I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband," Oriana said sarcastically.

Raven had always liked the Antivan woman. Her humour matched Fergus's. No, that was wrong… sort of. Her humour could keep up with his. Eh, a little better. Looking at her brother, she realised she wasn't quite willing to leave him yet. Or have him leave. She tried to think of another topic to delay the moment she had to officially bid him farewell, a goodbye that might be the last one. And that potential truth terrified her in a way her childhood monsters would envy. "Did you know there's a Grey Warden in the castle?" she asked to keep the conversation going.

"Really?" Oren asked, extremely interested and curious. "Was he riding a griffon?"

"Shush, Oren," Oriana told her son. "Griffons only exist in stories now."

"I'd heard that," Fergus said and turned to Raven. "Did he say why he's come?"

"He's going to test Ser Gilmore."

"Good for him! I hope he makes it. If I were a Grey Warden, though, I'd have my eye on you – not that Father would ever allow it."

She was proud her brother would say that, but she found that there was nothing else that came to mind, to keep the conversation going. She did not want him or her father to leave, but the King had demanded aid and they had to respect such demands from him. She did not like it, but she had her place and her brother had his. Something in her chest was giving her a bad feeling, a foreboding that chilled her blood and made her skin tingle uncomfortably. With extreme reluctance, she told him the message: "I bring a message: Father wants you to leave without him."

"Then the arl's men _are_ delayed. You'd think his men were walking backwards," he exclaimed and then sighed and gave Oren one last final hug. "Well, I'd better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go, then. I'll see you soon, my love," he said his farewells, leaning into his wife, but before the two could even think to kiss: Bryce and Eleanor entered the room.

Raven smiled, as she realised she had been sent on ahead for the family to be together for goodbye. "I would hope, dear boy," her father said, "that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave?"

"Be well, my son," Eleanor said, hugging her eldest son close and tight. "I will pray for you every day you are gone."

"A good shield would be more useful," Raven snorted, amused as she watched Fergus subtly squirm in their mother's hold.

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us," Oriana said, looking at each family member before finally resting on Raven. Oriana knew Raven did not believe in the Maker, but unlike Mother Mallol, she was much more subtle (but no less obvious) in her attempts to change Raven's mind.

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it," Fergus added with a laugh, and at a glance from his wife, quickly amended himself. "Err... for the men, of course."

"Fergus!" Oriana exclaimed. "You would say this in front of your mother?"

"What's a wench?" Oren asked, looking up at his father. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

"A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren," Bryce replied, and added a bit more softly, a little reluctant for his grandson to hear. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" Elena exclaimed with a shake of her head. "Maker's breath, it's like living with a pair of small boys. Thankfully, I have a daughter."

Fergus chuckled at that. He knew full well that Raven, for all her pretty looks, detested feminine things. "I'll miss you, Mother dear. You'll take care of her, Sister, won't you?"

Raven laughed at that and shook her head. "Mother can handle herself. Always has."

"It's true," Fergus agreed. "They should be sending her, not me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the Deep Roads."

"Well, I'm glad you find this so funny," Eleanor said in a tone suggesting she was not as amused as her son, daughter and husband.

"Enough, enough," Bryce laughed at the two siblings and then turned to his daughter. "Pup, you'll want an early night. You've much to do tomorrow."

Raven was about to speak when Oren tugged at the skirt of her armour. "Mama says you're going to be watching over us while papa is gone. Is that true, Auntie?"

"Yes that's true, Oren," Raven replied, smiling down at him, finding him so adorable as his little and innocent face stared up at her trustingly. He was such a curious boy, so well mannered compared to how Fergus and herself were at that age. It was surely Oriana's doing and despite what she might say: she was glad her brother had found her. Her doted on her little nephew fiercely. Anyone who dared made him cry would have a long line of Couslands on their tail and all of them were exemplary warriors (Raven being the exception as a rogue). Raven would take a more sadistic approach of leaving time for the perpetrator to suffer until they were begging for mercy. Whether she would give it or not was another matter.

"What if the castle is attacked?" Oren asked, sounding rather eager for it to happen. "Will there be dragons?"

"Dragons are terrible creatures, Oren," Oriana said, concerned about the question. "They eat people."

"Yeah! I want to see one!" her son exclaimed, causing Raven to stifle her giggle or risk being given another stern look from yet another person.

"This is your influence, Fergus," Oriana told her husband with a stern look.

His eyes widened defensively. "What? I didn't say anything!"

"Are you going to teach me to use a sword, Auntie? Then I can fight evil, too! Take that, dire bunny! All darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!"

Raven cocked her brow at the ' _sword of truthiness_ ' part, but was eager to start. "You bet! Let's go!"

Oriana did not sigh, but she did have much pain in her voice as she turned to her husband. "Fergus, there are times your family causes me great pain."

"Now, now. Mind your mother, Oren."

"I never get to do anything!"

"Don't worry, son. You'll get to see a sword up close real soon, I promise," Fergus promised his son and then smirked at his sister. "Getting sent to bed early, are we?"

Raven's smile was all teeth and full of frostbite. "Have fun on the long march. In the cold."

"Hmm. A warm bed doesn't sound so bad now, come to think of it. Heh. At any rate, I'll miss you. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back," he said and engulfed her in a firm hug and she took in the scent of oil used on swords and Oriana's subtle perfume as well as her own smell that belonged to him. She breathed out through her nose; backing away she bid her mother and Oriana goodnight and approached her father.

"You should be on your way, pup," he reminded her. "Long day ahead, tomorrow."

Raven rocked on the balls of her feet, feeling like a little girl seeing her father off for a long landsmeet; except this was a much more dangerous venture. She breathed out nervously and asked the dreaded question the little girl within her wanting to sit on her father's lap needed to say. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Your brother and I go into battle, not an afternoon tea," he told the truth. "Who knows what will happen to us? I will tell you this, however: you're my darling daughter, I love you, and I trust you completely to carry on the Cousland name if the worst should happen. But don't worry about me, dear girl. You have enough to occupy your mind while I'm gone."

"Is sending all our forces south a good idea?"

"When the king demands it. In fact, not sending our forces would be a distinctly bad idea. Don't worry, pup. You shouldn't see many problems. But I want you to prepare the men left here. In case."

"In case of what?"

"Legends of the Blights tell of horrible things. These darkspawn once threatened many Lands. If we can't hold them... you must prepare for the worst."

"And what can I do with a handful of guards?"

"I trust you to do what is best. And don't be afraid to ask your mother's advice. She's Fereldan-born—strong, just as you are. But let's not speak of ominous things. We shall assume that all will go well and the Maker will watch over us."

"About this Grey Warden..." Raven said, trailing off at the instant narrowing of her father's eyes.

"Ah. I was wondering how long this would take. Has he asked to recruit you?"

She shook her head. "He hasn't. I was just wondering about him."

"If a Blight is truly upon us in the south, then Grey Wardens will be needed. There is no higher calling," he said and took a deep breath and released it just as slow. "If it comes to that, we can talk about it when I get back. Until then, just show him every courtesy. Duncan is a fine man, and a hero."

Raven instantly pounced and wrapped her arms around her father, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent of outdoors: a hot, sunny day of the earth after a frosty night. For a moment, she didn't move and her Father hugged her back just as fiercely but, she had to release him eventually and taking another breath she steeled herself and slowly, reluctantly, backed away. "I'll go now."

Bryce smiled at his daughter. "I know that you'll do me proud. You've grown into a sensible woman, that much is clear."

Raven smiled and looked at her family, not realising it would be the last time she would see them together ever again.

She went to bed with Seawolf at her heel, leaping atop the bed and flopping down on his favourite spot. "Good night, Ser Seawolf," she told her hound and received a responding bark before she blew out the candles.

With tomorrow looming over her, sleep did not come easy for her that night.

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And... scene.

Phew. That felt long. Was it long for you? And, that sounded a lot better in my head, but if you think about it: It's ALL in my head. Hehehe. My humour is shake-the-head worthy, I know. I'm running on a few hours sleep a night, because I just can't get comfortable in my bed and it's bloody humid. Summer is all well and good, except for the fact it's hard to keep cool. It's much easier to warm up in winter. Have a hot shower, put on thick socks, thick pants and a long sleeved shirt, a dressing gone and wrap yourself in a blanket and get a cup of hot chocolate or a coffee, and you're all set.

Summer? If you don't have air conditioning, you are stuck in a humid sun-blasting, wind-never-cool heat that sticks to your skin, drags you down and leaves you gasping for air, lying on the floor wondering if you've run a marathon to be this red-faced, but you, in fact, have not even moved from the couch. Where, theoretically it should be cooler than outside, but no, the heat just gets trapped inside like a sauna. And whatever fan you have, just moves the hot air around and you kill anyone who dares steal your iced water or soft drink.

Ok, it's not as bad as it could be, but I really don't like the heat. Don't like the cold either, but it's easier to tolerate and deal with, and this is all just rambling to test if people actually read this.

So, catch you later, thank you for reading. Feel free to leave a review. Comment's are like chocolates: you never know what you're going to get.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note... You think you've added the entire chapter, and then come back and realise you're missing half of it. Gosh darn it! Well, I've fixed that up.

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Chapter One: Royal Welcome

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Dreams were incredibly vague upon awakening, not that Raven remembered most of hers but the feeling of wrongness had been so strong, she even heard screaming – she had awoken to a dark room and Seawolf was barking angrily. He was growling so ferociously, it was a wonder she had not woken up from the tingle of fear that rushed down her spine at the sound. His gaze was intense on the door and Raven groggily lifted herself up on one arm to look at him properly.

"What's wrong, boy? Is someone out there?" she asked and when her mabari did not turn around and only continued to growl; did she sense the danger that meant. She was glad she kept her daggers so close, because as soon as her fingers skimmed the hilt: the door slammed open.

A panic-striven servant – Davis, a kind man who she had befriended and shared many a tale with – burst in with terror in his eyes. "My lady! Help me! The castle is under attack!" he cried out and Raven gasped as an arrow pierced his back, the tip bursting to wink at him from his chest with a spray of blood. She stared in horror as he fell, frozen in place as he remained unmoving on the floor.

Then, something twitched and her eyes trailed towards the scene behind the door-frame – and she recognised the emblem on the men attacking her men – and she felt rage and it fuelled her next action. Crying out in rage so feral and so deep within; she slashed at his throat in a frenzied moment he had no defence against, kicking him to the floor and stepping over him as he choked on his own blood to tangle with the second. He had a shield; her cold calculating side knew that would make him a heavy hitter which meant he would be slower than her. Another second finding weaknesses lead to the discovery his helmet hindered most of his vision. She could use that. Dancing and pivoting past his attacks until she stood behind him, she looked for the spot where neck met shoulder and thrust down, viciously twisting the blade once she had and hit her mark with deadly, fatal accuracy. She heard and felt his last breathe leave him. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The cries of four more men snapped her attention from the quickly pooling blood and with silent wrath she met the four in a battle dance.

They were slower than her, hindered by their heavier armour. There was a reason she never wore a helmet if she could help it. For all the protection they gave, they did not provide perfect vision.

It was all too easy to flank them and get behind them; and all the more amusing to watch as they struck each other in their attempts to strike her down.

They were dead within a minute.

When the final man fell, Raven breathed heavily, adrenalin and rage mingling in bloodlust. When at least the haze had cleared, she realised someone was approaching. She almost struck, but her mother's familiar voice stilled her hand and a relieved breath rushed out as her mother took her in her arms, hugging her fiercely. "Darling! I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst. Are you hurt?" Then, her mother's eyes widened as she noticed her daughter's state of undress. "Quick, you must dress!"

Raven nodded and turned to her room, seeking her armour. Seawolf's maw was red with blood, having taken down another two men she had not seen. She scratched the side of his head and turned back to her mother as she started to dress. "I'm fine," she told her mother as she started with her underclothes. She went to bed naked if she could help it, finding it easier for her to fall asleep. Swiftly, she pulled on each item and slipped the clasp deftly in place. "What's going on?!" came her sudden hissed question, turning slightly to look up at her mother.

"A scream woke me up. There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?!"

Raven was livid as she remembered the familiarity of that emblem and what it meant. "He betrayed Father! He attacks while our troops are gone!"

"You don't think Howe's men were delayed... on purpose? That bastard! I'll cut his lying throat myself! Have you seen your father? He never came to bed!"

Pain struck as she shook her head. "No, I haven't. I was in my room."

"We must find him!"

Raven's eyes fell on Fergus's room as a new panic made her heart skip painfully in her chest. "We should check on Oriana and Oren, as well."

"Andracte's mercy! What if the soldiers went into your brother's room first? Let's check on them! Quickly! Then we'll look for Bryce downstairs!" Eleanor said, and once they entered, Raven almost tried to hide it to protect her mother, but she could not move out of her own horror. Her sister-in-law... her dear, sweet little nephew. "No! My little Oren! What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?!

"I'll make them pay!" Raven swore heatedly and it was when she felt a sharp pain, did she realise she had gripped her blades too hard, her hand shaking in what could be pain or anger or adrenalin, she wasn't sure. It didn't matter. Making sure her mother didn't see, she wrapped ripped some spare linen from the curtain and bound the cuts tight. The pain was still sharp, but she used it to focus.

"Howe is not even taking hostages! He means to kill all of us! Oh, poor Fergus... let's go. I don't want to see this!" Eleanor exclaimed, the pain of a mother's loss beyond measure. She had always wanted grandchildren and she had been so delighted when Oren had been born. But she had to keep focused. She suggested that her daughter search Bryce's things before they left the family chambers. Once they had reached the hallways, the noise became all too clear. "Can you hear the fighting? Howe's men must be everywhere."

Raven looked more than ready to tear down the walls to get at Howe, but she had other concerns. "How can we get out of the castle?"

"The servant's passage leads out from the larder. But we must find your father, first. The front gates. That's where your father must be."

Raven breathed out angrily, hands clenching and unclenching as a small outlet for the rage inside. "Is there nothing else we can do?"

"I have my treasury key. We could go there first and take the Cousland sword from the vault. If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe's hands, it's that sword. But it may be a dangerous path."

Raven had always wanted to get into the treasury. Just, not like this. "Then let's go to the treasury," she said, accepting the key from her mother.

Watching as her daughter stormed away, Eleanor could not have been any prouder of her daughter than right at this moment. Eyes forward and determined to make those who dared hurt her people, her family pay, but Raven possessed a clear enough head to know when it was time to make a tactical retreat, but emotions were ever so fickle. Reaching out she took hold of her daughter's shoulders before she could get too far. "If Howe's men are inside, they must already control the castle. We must use the servants' entry in the larder to escape. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," came her emotionless reply, not moving her eyes from the corridor.

"Then let us be swift."

Mother and daughter quickly found a few routes blocked; and stumbled upon a servant fleeing the battle. "The castle has fallen! I'm getting out of here!"

Raven marched up to him with the fierceness of her mabari: teeth bared in an aggressive, mock grin. "Don't be a coward! Stand and fight!" she demanded, inspiring him to defend his home.

"Y-yes, my lady. Here... here they come!" he screamed as a group of Howe's men came running toward them.

Before Eleanor had even notched her first arrow; Raven and Seawolf had engaged with the first three men. He drew their attention once she had stunned one, and then slit the throat of the one who flanked her hound. Then, before the stunned man could fully recover, he toppled him over and went for the throat – while she went for the man still reeling from the hounds' ear-ringing howl. As Eleanor watched, she mused on the fact her daughter was the odd one out among a family of warriors. She was indeed proficient in her chosen art. She was deadly, graceful and sure. Eleanor felt a burst of pride for her daughter.

Between the fierce teamwork between Seawolf and Raven, Eleanor's aim and the servant Raven had persuaded to fight with them... they quickly neared the treasury.

"We're getting close to the treasury," Eleanor said, pausing outside the door. "The Cousland family blade lies inside. Use that key I gave you. That blade cannot fall into Howe's hands."

Raven quickly located said blade, grabbing a bow and a notch of arrows on the way out. The sound of fighting in the main hall, drew her attention to it where she found Ser Gilmore still alive. They raced in – she focused on the mage and her two surrounding guards. Once they were dealt with, Raven was breathing heavily, seemingly unaware of the chaos around her.

"Go! Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!" Ser Gilmore ordered what was left of the guards within the hall. He immediately ran over to them, looking relieved. Her relief was minute; she was far too consumed by rage. "Your Ladyship! My lady! You're both alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through!"

The force of Raven's glare made him step back but then she turned it to the door as if daring the soldiers to break through. "They _did_ get through!"

"They killed Oriana, and Oren... I can't believe... Are you injured?" Eleanor asked, concerned.

"Don't worry about me, your Ladyship. Thank the Maker you two are unharmed. When I realised what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won't keep Howe's men out long! If you've another way out of the castle, use it quickly!"

"We need to find Father!" Raven exclaimed, finally turning away from the door and into the honest, determined eyes of her childhood friend.

He spoke to her with his eyes, knowing his place and what he had to do and she was furious of this situation and that it was needed. She wanted to take him in her arms and just hold him... "When I last saw the Teyrn, he'd been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you. He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants' exit in the larder."

"Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you!"

"Maker watch over us all," Ser Gilmore replied, bowing first to Eleanor and then her and Raven almost lunged after him to drag him with her, but they each had their own route.

Breathing in sharply, she held her breath and then marched towards the kitchens, cursing Howe as she went.

They came upon four larger muscled warriors. Raven stepped back from one as Seawolf, the servant and another guard engaged them. Circling the group she looked for an opening to strike, and took that time to inspect the armour – to find a weak spot. Seawolf lunged, stopping short to just bark at one warrior to distract him. Taking a shot, she struck a killing blow into the side of his neck and cantered back to avoid a swing of another warrior's axe. She shot stunning powder at his face and her mother struck an arrow in his eye.

Finally free of warriors, Eleanor and Raven burst through the door.

"There... you both are. I was... wondering when you would get here."

"Bryce!" Eleanor exclaimed in horror when she saw he husband on the floor, holding his abdomen. "Makers blood, what's happening? You're bleeding!"

"Howe's men... found me first. Almost... did me in right there."

Raven leaned over him, fury in her eyes but concern in her voice. "How did you get here? You can hardly move!"

"Duncan... found me. Brought me here."

"And left you lying in your own blood?" Eleanor asked, horrified. "We must get you out of here!"

"I... I won't survive standing, I think," Bryce replied, resigned with the truth of what was happening.

Raven shook her head fiercely in denial. "Then we'll simply have to drag you out."

Bryce admired her determination, but... "Only... if you're willing to leave pieces of me behind, pup."

"Bryce! This is no time for jokes!" Eleanor chastised, a tinge of fear making itself present. "Once Howe's men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!"

Bryce nodded. "Someone... must reach Fergus... tell him what has happened."

Raven nodded and growled, "And take vengeance."

"Yes... vengeance."

Eleanor shook her head. "Bryce, no! The servants' passage is right here! We can flee together, find you healing magic!"

"The castle is surrounded... I cannot make it."

"I'm afraid the teyrn is correct," Duncan said as he walked in. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."

Eleanor looked up at him. "You are... Duncan, then? The Grey Warden?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner."

"My daughter helped me get here, Maker be praised," Eleanor smiled at her daughter.

Duncan glanced at Raven with an apprising gaze. "I am not surprised."

"Are you going to help us, Duncan?" Raven asked.

"Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick. They are coming!" Eleanor exclaimed.

Bryce peered up at the Grey Warden pleadingly. "Duncan... I beg you... take my wife and daughter to safety!"

"I will, your Lordship. But... I fear I must ask for something in return."

"Anything!"

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The Sarkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."

Bryce had not wanted it to be like this, but... there was no choice. "I... I understand."

Raven eyes narrowed, looking between her father and the Grey Warden. "Are you talking about me?"

"You fought your way through Howe's men," Duncan replied. "I think the Maker's intention is clear. I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what happened. Then, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

"So long as justice comes to Howe... I agree," Bryce replied.

"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens," Duncan said to Raven. "Fight with us."

Raven did not even think twice. "I accept your offer."

"We must leave quickly, then," Duncan said, standing up.

Eleanor looked at her husband and the life they had shared flickered past her eyes. "Bryce, are you... sure?"

"Our daughter will not die of Howe's treachery," Bryce replied determinedly. "She will live, and make her mark on the world."

Eleanor nodded and held her husband close. "Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance of escaping without me."

Bryce looked at his wife, a different pain in his eyes. "Eleanor..."

"Hush, Bryce. I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won't abandon you."

This time, Raven could not stop her tears and Seawolf, sensing the sorrow, placed a paw upon Bryce's hand and licked the man's cheek. He allowed Eleanor to give him a scratch behind his ears before finally nuzzling his mistress as she choked over her last words she would ever speak to her parents: "I love you both, so much."

"Then live, darling. Become a Grey Warden, and do what is right."

"I'm... so sorry it's come to this, my love..." Bryce choked out, getting as close to his wife as possible.

"We had a good life and did all we could. It's up to our children, now."

Bryce looked upon his beautiful daughter for the last time, assured that Fergus was well away from the castle. "Then... go, pup," he gently urged her around the pain. "Warn your brother. And know that we love you both. You do us proud."

A shattering thud and cries of battle reached their ears and Duncan grabbed Raven's shoulder to tug her away from her parents. "They've broken through the gates. We must go now."

"Goodbye, darling," Eleanor bid her daughter farewell – and Raven's last image was her parents holding one another.

Raven and Duncan didn't encounter as much trouble as Raven would have liked. They were out of the servants passage and had disappeared into the night, unnoticed.

"We will be travelling south through the Hinterlands to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edges of the Kocari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting that we make our stand here, even if we face a different foe within that forest. The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the build of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. This Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."

.

.

* * *

.

.

The trip had been made in silence. Raven had not spoken much, which was understandable but she had not been recluse. That told Duncan a lot about her spirit. He had also kept her distracted with tales of his own that had helped distract her, but whenever she put her head to the ground, she was unable to sleep. Plagued by visions of blood, screaming and the images of her parents huddled together.

Eventually, they found the camp and were greeted by a man in golden armour that almost matched his hair. "Ho there, Duncan!"

"King Cailin?" Duncan greeted, confused and Raven almost drew back. She had seen the man in passing whenever her father would talk her to Denerium. They had never met though. "I didn't expect—"

"A royal welcome?" the young King interrupted with a kindly smile. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

"Not I could help it, Your Majesty," was the Warden's polite, courteous response.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!" he exhaled the word on a purr of excitement that made Raven doubt his mental faculties. He appeared more a boy about to be let out to play with his friends, rather than a King about to lead a battle against the Darkspawn. Ah yes, now Raven remembered why she had only met him once. She had kicked his shins when he had mentioned that girls shouldn't play with boys. Her father had apologised for her profusely, and she briefly panicked over if he remembered the incident. "The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?" he asked, his bright eyes focusing on her with.

"Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty," Duncan offered.

However, Cailan held up his hand. "No need, Duncan. You are Bryce's youngest, are you not? I don't think we've actually met."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied with a small bow out of respect for his station. "My name is Raven."

"Your brother has already arrived with Highever's men, but we are still awaiting your father," Cailan said and the words put a thousand arrows through her heart.

"You don't know what's happened?"

"News from the north has been unreliable. What's happened?"

In retrospect, she should have expected something like that. She tried to explain, but found herself unable, folding her arms defensively and turning away. She was unable to talk about it. The pain was too raw and the memory too sharp and clear in her mind. For goodness sake, she could still feel the blood on her hands, feel the residual warmth of her mother and father's skin… the dead-eyed stare of her nephew… the people screaming. Duncan stepped up and drew the King's attention from her. "Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, Your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished."

"I... can scarcely believe it! How could he think he would get away with such treachery?! As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word."

Raven stared into those resolute, determined eyes and saw clearly that he was indeed the King. Eccentric or not, he was a good man. She bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting in the Wilds."

Raven shook her head. "I am not eager to tell him, Your Majesty."

"Of that, I have no doubt. You will see him again once the battle is over, I am certain. I apologise, but there is nothing more I can do. All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being."

"So long as Arl Howe pays, I'm happy," she smiled through grit-teeth with vivid images of watching herself slowly dig a knife through the man's ribs, watching the life bleed out of his eyes.

Her bloodlust must have been too obvious, because the King stepped back slightly. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies."

"Your Uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week," Duncan reminded him.

"Ha!" the King exclaimed cheerfully. "Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against the monsters and tomorrow should be no different!"

Raven's brow cocked upwards. The Darkspawn were a serious matter, not something to be so marked as 'quick and easy as pie'. "You sound very confident of that."

"Overconfident, some would say. Right, Duncan?" Cailan laughed heartily.

Duncan, to his credit, did not roll his eyes. "Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as... quickly as you might wish."

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of Darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an arch-demon."

"Disappointed, Your Majesty?"

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!"

Raven watched him go and then raised both brows at Duncan in silent 'are we sure about his competence?' Duncan did not pick up on the true meaning of it, instead saying: "What the King says is true. They've won several battles against the Darkspawn here," he told her as he lead the way towards a large bridge. The area smelt of wet wood and dog. A familiar scent, coupled with meat cooking over a fire, and the smoke. Ah, now she was really hungry. Duncan had proven to be an excellent hunter and a good cook, but he had not been prepared for running from Highever after an attack. They had only been able to have small meals, nothing too filling, which was probably best, considering how many damned wolves they had come across on the way.

"Yet you don't sound very reassured."

"Despite the victories so far, the Darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us," he said as he came to a stop at the bridge and turned to face her directly. At her side, Seawolf sat down and she rubbed his head affectionately as she listened. "I know there is an Arch Demon behind this. But I cannot ask the King to act solely on my feelings."

"Why not?" she asked, crouching down to get to that place on her hounds chest he loved. "He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly."

"Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais," he replied with a slight shake of his head. He was loyal to his King and his sense of duty was strong. Stronger than anything Raven had seen in a person before. And yet even he could feel frustrated when the person he respected was acting stupid. "He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the joining ritual without delay."

Ah, now here was something she could do. She wanted to do something that would take her mind off what had happened. _Anything_. "What do you need me to do?"

Duncan gestured to the camp across the bridge, nestled in the ruins of what had been a grand building. Nature had retaken the land, but the skeleton remained, still standing strong. "Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being," he requested politely and she could only nod to let him know she understood. "There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Your hound can stay with me while I attend to some business," he smiled down at Seawolf, who barked happily. "The Grey Warden tent is on the other side of this bridge. You will find us there, should you need to."

She bowed her head and gave Seawolf another affectionate pat and watched as Duncan marched off. She turned to observe her surroundings; the scent of rain was heavy on the air.

She was not sure what this ritual was going to be like, but there was a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Curling her fingers, she turned to face the camp, hit with the sudden need to turn tail and run. But, she needed to do this. It was the price she had to pay to get what she wanted…

Howe's head on a silver fucking platter.

.

* * *

.

As Raven walked up to the entrance into camp, a guard stepped forward. "Hail! You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought. This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'll wager. Need a hand getting anywhere?" he asked, and if he wasn't the friendliest soldier she had met that day, she was a firm believer in Andraste. She stepped closer to him, noting his kindly brown eyes and friendly demeanour.

Her smile came naturally as she asked: "Where is Duncan's tent?"

"Not far. It's straight ahead, just past the royal encampment. Most of your fellows are in the valley with the army, but the recruits seem to be staying up here for now."

"I'm looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair."

"Try heading north. I think he was sent with a message to the mages."

She nodded, mentally angling the trajectory in the back of her mind and then looked around. She vaguely knew this place but she had not been within its walls. "Tell me about Ostagar."

"Used to be a fortress, long time ago, so I understand," he replied and folded his arms to lean back against the surface behind him. "Back in the days when the Wilders used to invade the lowlands. You were just on the eastern side of the ruin. The Tower of Ishal is there, but Teyrn Loghain's closed it off until the battle. This side," he pointed behind him, "is the King's camp. We've got the Grey Wardens here, the Circle of Magi, the Chantry… You can't swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important."

Now there was a mental image, but she focused on one point of interest. "The Circle of Magi is here?"

"A few mages, yes," he replied with a subtle disgruntlement, but nothing like the outright hatred and fear like most people had when they came across mages. "They even brought those creepy quiet fellows, the Tranquil. Gives me shivered when they talk, all cold and even," he shuddered as if to prove his point. "They're to the north of here, bunched up with a herd of templars glaring at them. Can't miss it."

She nodded, already making a list of her 'tour'. "Is there anywhere to get suppliles?"

"Quartermaster. He's just a bit northwest."

"Where is the King?" she asked, just to be sure she wouldn't accidentally run into his path again. His armour was too gold and his smile too wide for her right now.

"Probably in his tent. He and Teyrn Loghain are on the southwest side of the camp. The King likes to spend time with his soldiers, though, sometimes even without his bodyguards. Drives Teyrn Loghain wild, that does."

Raven paused, and then grinned. "Do I hear barking?"

"This is Ferelden, isn't it?" was the sarcastic response that came off more as blunt and matter-of-fact than condescending. "The King has his kennels on the west side of the camp. Stinks from all the hounds. These aren't cute puppies, though – some of those dogs bite Darkspawn and get too much of that blood in them… It's like poison. Slow, painful death. Terrible," he shook his head, cringing in sympathetic pain.

She bid the guard a small smile. "I'll be on my way. Thank you for the directions."

"Good luck to you, then."

Raven rolled her shoulders as she walked; circling around a central pillar that had remained to hold up what was left of a ceiling. When she looked back down, she almost had a heart attack as a Templar decked out in complete armour stood in her way… "The mages must not be interrupted. Their spirits are in the Fade," he warned her tonelessly, his eyes hidden in the shadows of the thin visor that really was impractical for sight.

She held a hand to her heart as she stepped back, this time noticing the mages that were doing… something with their hands. Moving mist and their eyes had a faraway look…

"I apologise," she bowed slightly at the Templar. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

She quickly marched off and stopped only underneath a tree, and rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn't sure who was more unnerving… the mages or the templars?

"Greetings, young lady," an elderly, motherly voice caught her attention, and Raven blinked as she found an elderly woman, dressed in a robe leaning against the tree. "You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud," she continued and then stepped forward and walked to the stew pot hanging over a fire. She picked up a bowel and filled it, presenting it to Raven and she accepted it with a heartfelt thank you. "Allow me to introduce myself," she continued as Raven tucked in, taking a seat in front of the fire, surprised by her sudden hunger. "I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the King."

Raven paused eating, swallowed what was in her mouth and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Wynne. I'm Raven. Um… can I have some more, please?"

"Well met," Wynne smiled as she took the bowel and refilled it for her, "and good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact."

"It's not luck, but skill that will save us," she responded around a mouthful of stew.

"And I'm sure you have plenty of that to offer," Wynne smiled a _'children are so cute'_ smile as she sat down on a stool. "To defeat the Darkspawn, we have to work together. It's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."

Raven hummed in agreement as she finished off the stew and lay the bowel down between her feet. "You've faced Darkspawn before?"

"Stragglers, yes – not the vast horde the scouts speak of," Wynne replied as she served herself some stew and ate at much more sedate pace. Raven watched her, instinctively knowing this woman was wise and that she should be listened to. The inner strength of the woman reminded Raven of her mother in a way. "I wonder… how much do you know of the connection between Darkspawn and the Fade?"

"I know the Fade is where you go when you dream."

"Any time your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it's to dream or to die, it passes into the realm we call the Fade," Wynne began as she stirred her stew. Raven had read a great deal about the Fade, in fact she had read every book in the small church resembling the Chantry back home. "It's home to many spirits, some benevolent, others far less so. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City."

"I've read that before," Raven nodded, but couldn't recall any details that Wynne might be getting at. "Didn't something bad happen there?"

"Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when mages from the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the City, it was tainted with their sin. That taint turned those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts. And the Maker cast them back to the earth, where they became the first Darkspawn," she finished, and then her lips curled in wry amusement. "At least, that's what the Chant of Light says."

Raven eyed the woman for a moment, wondering just how Andrastian she was and carefully said: "The Chantry says many things."

"It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering. Or it may be true. It is as good an explanation as any, for now."

"I'll just kill every Darkspawn I seem," Raven shrugged with a smile and grabbed the bowel.

"A wise attiude," Wynne inclined her head and then took the bowel from her. "It's worked well for me in the past. But I'm certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me."

"He did give me a task, yes. Thank you for the stew Wynne," she smiled and headed off in search of either A, Alistair or B, the quartermaster. She had some wolf pelts to sell… and some extra weapons and armour.

She did not get far, when she spotted a cheeky-looking man with flirty eyes chatting up a woman. "So… any last wishes I can help fulfil before you head into battle?" he was asking her. "Life is fleeting, you know. That pretty face could be decorating some Darkspawn spear this time tomorrow. Shall I take that quiet glare as a no?" he smirked as the blonde-haired beauty as she began to walk away. "Ahh, well. Too bad."

Raven just had to chuckle, and the man turned to face her in surprise. "Well, you're not what I thought you'd be," he told her, his gaze raking her form.

Her brow cocked at him, her eyes trailing his form as well. "What did you think I'd be?"

"Not a woman," he admitted as he finished his appraisal and looked her directly in the eyes. "Yet here you are. The name's Daveth," he bowed, shamelessly flirting with her already with a charming smile. "It's about bloody time you came along. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit."

She had to smirk as she folded her arms and leant back on one leg. "Maybe they did."

"Just to give us a good scare?" he chuckled and then shook his head. "No, they don't really seem the type. I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see," he stepped closer to her, revealing he was taller and she had to look up slightly as he bent down as if to impart a secret, "and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in for a bit. I'm thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds."

Raven's head tilted and she noticed his gaze flicker down the line of her throat. "Maybe they will. We'll see," she chuckled lightly.

"It's all too secretive for me. Makes my nose twitch. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Like we have a choice," he shrugged.

She straightened up and took a slight step back, "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

His smirk oozled with flirty vibes, "Oh, I'll watch your back," he chuckled.

"Just don't get too distracted back there."

"I'll keep my wits about me," he said as he took a small step back. "Anyway, I expect it's time to get back to Duncan. That's where I'll be, if you need me for anything."

She watched him leave and then shook her head. "Oh, no, _bad_ Raven! I have not protected my virginity to hand it out to the first guy that smirks at me… No matter how dashing!"

Shaking her head again, she turned around and noticed a burly man who looked ready to explode. "Have you seen an elf running about? Young woman, red hair? Carrying a suit of chain?"

"Can't say I have, no," she retorted, hoping that said red-headed woman stayed clear of the bastard.

"Blast it, where did she go? That suit better be patched up when she gets back, or by the Maker, I'll—Ah, pardon my manners," he broke off his rant, clearing his throat and made a show of being polite, hospitable and helpful. "My troubles are no concern of yours, I'm sure. I'm the quartermaster…. Did you come for supplies?"

"Let me see what you have."

"Let me know what you'd like…"

An offload of weapons, armour and wolf pelts she did not need, she walked away with potions, traps and more gold in her pocket. She had half a mind pickpocket the man, but decided against it. She headed up a level and found herself surrounded by soldiers. Some were surrounding a Mother as she prayed for them, and she had to shake her head and simultaneously feel grateful that the men found some solace.

"Greetings," a big man said from behind her and she turned to notice a beard. "You must be the third recruit we've heard about?"

"Yes. I am Raven."

"Ser Jory is my name. I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as knight under the command of Arl Eamon. I was not aware they permitted women to join the Grey Wardens. None of those I've seen thus far have been."

"I can handle myself," she responded, stiffening at his careless words.

"You obviously impressed Duncan, and that's enough for me. I hope we're both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. "Is it not thrilling to be given that chance?"

Okay, she was not sure what to make of this guy. "I'm curious about the Joining ritual."

"As am I. Has anyone told you about it?" he asked her as he kept a respectful distance away.

She folded her arms. "Daveth said we might be going into the Wilds."

"I have never heard of such a ritual. I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited. I suppose you're finally here I'd best get back to Duncan. I shall see you there."

Raven blinked at his back. Yup. That was a strange encounter.

/

/

/

Author's note: Many apologies for the wait. See you on the next one!


End file.
